Dare Speak Its Name
by Lomonaaeren
Summary: HPDM slash, twoshot. AU, with Harry raised by his parents. Harry learns of a secret Quidditch field, run by one Draco Malfoy, that tests all comers and trains them to a higher level of perfection. Sneaking out to the field is only natural for Harry. But what he encounters there changes his life at a level he's never let anyone see before. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Dare Speak Its Name  
 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.  
 **Pairing:** Harry/Draco, background Lily/James  
 **Content Notes:** AU (Voldemort died without Horcruxes, Lily and James lived), mild angst, mild violence  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Wordcount:** This part 4400  
 **Summary:** AU, with Harry raised by his parents. Harry learns of a secret Quidditch field, run by one Draco Malfoy, that tests all comers and trains them to a higher level of perfection. Sneaking out to the field is only natural for Harry. But what he encounters there changes his life at a level he's never let anyone see before.  
 **Author's Notes:** An Advent fic written for the following request by autumnaubergine: _AU. Harry/Draco, don't care who tops. Harry is raised magical, and he hears through the grapevine that there is a field where guys go to play Quidditch at night, a secret league. The field is on Draco's estate. Harry sneaks out of his house, apparates or floos or takes the magic bus or otherwise gets there, says the magic word, and sneaks in to play. He meets Draco, and discovers the players aren't just playing, they do stuff in the outdoor showers too after the game. Basically, a secretive coming out story, have the ending surprise me?_ The second part will be posted tomorrow.

 **Dare Speak Its Name**

"And, you know, they _play Quidditch_ there. _Real_ Quidditch."

Harry shifted closer to Ron, intrigued. They were sitting in front of the fireplace playing Exploding Snap as usual on most summer afternoons. But the way Ron had just looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice wasn't usual at all. "What do you mean? They say the rules don't apply or something?"

"More than that, mate," said Ron. He stretched and arched his neck and scratched it, and Harry chuckled a little at how elaborately casual it looked. But Ron turned back to him, and there was nothing casual about the glow in his eyes. "They don't let anyone play who can't meet a certain standard."

"Who sets the standard?"

"Malfoy."

Harry frowned a little. Malfoy was distant blond hair in a crowd of Slytherins and a name that his father still cursed because _Malfoy's_ father had been a Death Eater. But James's curses were as distant as the hair, now. Harry had never directly interacted with Malfoy through years of being in Gryffindor; someone had finally seen sense and separated Gryffindors and Slytherins in all classes except NEWT ones. "How can he? He was never on the Quidditch team."

Ron snorted. "Apparently he was too good to play with us plebeians. He has all these tests you have to pass. And the tests are _brutal,_ mate. Brutal. You can't use any magic to help you. He even has spells that strip away the broom's magic if people are leaning on it too heavily. It's pure physical skill."

Harry felt a stir start in his stomach. "Safety spells?"

"None."

"Not even-"

" _None,_ mate. At all. On the brooms or the grounds or the equipment. The Bludgers can't be stopped short of capturing them again. You can't even Summon them the way you can your dad's. Nothing but skill."

Harry felt his breath come short. He had been so frustrated playing on the Gryffindor team, no matter how good he was. What was life without a challenge? And there had been no one who could challenge him, not even when little Alessandra Zabini became Seeker for Slytherin. Harry had taken to doing things like casting handicap spells on himself that would keep his hands sticking to the broom for a certain period of time. It was no _fun_ otherwise.

"What kinds of standards do you have to meet?"

"Your own broom." Ron sighed longingly. Harry nodded. He knew Ron didn't have his own broom, and he had shouted so hard at Harry when Harry offered to buy him one that there was no chance of _that._ Ron was working at Fred and George's shop and would eventually earn enough money for a Nimbus, but it would take six months or so yet. "Enough skill at Quidditch to stay in the air through the initial tests, which I reckon Malfoy conducts himself. A desire to _win._ "

"And what else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

"I know you, Ron Weasley, and you're holding something back. What is it? Come on," Harry added, watching Ron's neck. "Did you know all your freckles disappear in the red when you lie?"

Ron sighed and dropped his head back. "Well, you know those rumors about Malfoy?"

"No." Sometimes Harry loved that they lived in Godric's Hollow, which was isolated from the main magical world, but other times it irritated the hell out of him. He was never up on the gossip.

"He's, um."

Harry watched Ron in fascination. It must be something special if _he_ was blushing. "What?"

"He likes to fuck blokes." Ron lowered his voice. "That's another part of the test. If you lose a game to Malfoy, he's the one who decides if your skill's great enough to stay. And you have to pay him a forfeit. It's usually fucking, apparently. Or making other blokes do it together, so he can watch."

Harry blinked, and blinked again, hyper-aware of the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks. "No girls?"

"No. It's Malfoy's Quidditch field, so I reckon he runs it the way he wants to." Ron shrugged and took a sip of the butterbeer that Harry's parents had finally decided they were old enough to have without supervision. "And that means no girls, because he doesn't want to fuck them."

Harry smirked a little at the thought of what Angelina and Katie would say to _that,_ but he had to admit he was intrigued. He was male. He had his own broom. He wouldn't really care about Malfoy fucking him or ordering him to fuck other people, come to that. Harry had come to the conclusion, after more than a few disappointing experiences, that sex just didn't excite him much. If it was one more test he had to pass to play real Quidditch, then he could take it.

And he longed so badly for the challenge that just knowing this Quidditch field existed suddenly made the rest of his life taste like stale water. He wanted it, wanted the challenge, wanted the endless yearning possibilities of it.

"Thanks for telling me, Ron," he said. "The Quidditch field at Malfoy's house?"

"'Course it is, mate. And I've heard-" Ron shot a suspicious glance towards the kitchen as Harry's mum spoke loudly about dinner "-that he holds tests for new players at the dark of the moon _and_ the full."

Harry smiled more widely. The full moon was tomorrow, which meant Remus, the most likely person to see something was up and stop him, wouldn't be around to do it this time. "Thanks, mate. You're a good friend."

Ron casually turned over a card as Sirius walked past the doorway and made one of his usual faces at Harry. Then he whispered, "A good friend would deserve a description of all the things Malfoy does differently. As far as the Quidditch goes, I mean. You can shag blokes on your own time."

Harry grinned. "Will do."

* * *

"Harry, don't you want any more dinner?"

Harry looked up and smiled tiredly at his mother. She was always trying to get him to eat more, eat healthily, clean up, study more often. He loved her, but she didn't know him.

She thought he was some sort of frustrated genius, with all these abilities that he didn't work on because it was pointless at Hogwarts, where the professors only wanted right answers, and at home James and Sirius were always taking Harry's time and attention for themselves. Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that he wasn't frustrated with anything except his lack of privacy and friends. He wasn't a genius. He was lazy.

"You haven't had any carrots," Lily went on, and pushed the steaming bowl towards him.

"Thanks, Mum." Harry dished up the carrots, keeping his eyes strictly on the bowl and ignoring the way she leaned over as if to count how many he took. Then he made sure to eat several. Lily finally nodded and turned her attention back to the Charms book sitting by her plate.

Harry ate and watched Dad and Sirius joking on the other side of the table, and wondered. Maybe Mum felt this way about him because she was something of a frustrated genius herself. She'd gone into Healer training, but not liked it, and then she'd started on Charms work, but there were few careers available for a pure specialist in Charms. Lately she was trying to combine them with something else, maybe designing custom spells. Harry didn't think she'd really decided yet.

And Dad and Sirius...Harry loved them, he really did, but they thought he was a prankster who would someday, after a suitable period taking it easy, become an Auror. Harry hadn't found a way to tell them he was neither. Really, after eighteen years of knowing him, they hadn't figured it out _yet?_

Remus, who was making casual conversation with Lily and sometimes smiling at Harry, was the only person Harry felt truly understood him. But Remus didn't understand why Harry wanted to get some space from his family. Harry could appreciate that-Remus was a werewolf, he'd never felt loved or accepted until he met the Marauders-but it wasn't Harry's fate.

Harry had plenty of love and acceptance. What he needed was freedom.

"Potatoes, Harry?"

For the sake of his mum not suspecting him, Harry mustered a smile and a nod, and ate some potatoes, too.

But his mind was two nights away, on a private Quidditch pitch, in the light of the full moon.

* * *

"State your name."

"Harry Potter." Harry had pulled off the Invisibility Cloak the minute he felt the edge of the protective spells around the gates, and so had walked up to them in plain sight. It made all the instincts his dad had trained into him prickle. You weren't ever supposed to be seen in the process of planning a prank.

But this wasn't a prank. This was Harry taking control of his life again, the only way he could. _Merlin, let me have this diversion before I probably end up being an Auror like they want._

The flare of light in front of him caught him by surprise; the gates and fence of Malfoy Manor had been dark so far. Out of the light came a rapidly-striding figure, who stopped behind the fence and stared at him doubtfully.

Harry looked back. His breath was light and fearless. He had come here for a good reason, and while he hadn't ever known Malfoy well, he could pick him out of a crowd. He was sure Malfoy could do the same to him.

"Well." Malfoy's voice was soft. He lifted his wand, and the brilliant light coming from it in a halo-an interesting version of the _Lumos_ Charm that Harry had never seen-narrowed to a cone. Harry could see his face now.

Malfoy had grown up fox-like, intent and pointed and predatory. He looked at Harry with grey eyes flaring bright enough that Harry was sure it wasn't _all_ the light of the charm. Then he nodded slowly.

"I wondered when you might show up," he said, and his eyes dropped to the Firebolt in Harry's grasp. "That's your own broom?"

"Yes, it is." Harry started to turn it around so Malfoy could check the engraved name if he wanted, but Malfoy gave his head a small twitch.

"And you know the rules here? No safety spells? Of any kind? And that you'll fuck other blokes, or let me fuck you, if you fail my test?"

"Yes," Harry said. The words made sharp tingles spread down his shoulders, the way they hadn't when Ron was speaking of these rules. Then again, Ron hadn't had the power to make them come true.

Malfoy paused. "The fucking doesn't bother you?"

It seemed impossible to be other than honest, here in the half-lit darkness. "I've had lots of sex, with both blokes and birds. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. And when it didn't excite me, I did it some more, because I thought there must be something wrong with me or the people I'd messed around with. It never changed. Sex honestly doesn't _matter_ to me, Malfoy. I'll do it if you say I have to."

Malfoy's face was startled for an instant, making him look far younger than Harry had thought was possible. He shook his head a little. "You'd give up your chance-"

"I highly doubt your version of Quidditch is for life. I'm not a virgin. I'm not a poor Quidditch player. I'm not someone who can't stand the thought of having a bloke's dick in his arse. I'll do what's necessary. And," Harry leaned nearer and let his breath out on Malfoy's cheek, "I don't mind taking orders if I lose."

 _There_ it was. The thing Harry had always imagined but never seen. The light of challenge kindling to flames in Malfoy's eyes, the challenge Harry had always been seeking on the Quidditch pitch and never found.

"Then you sound perfect, Potter." Malfoy's voice was soft as heather, and so was the hand he raised to cup Harry's cheek. "Of course I'll have to test you myself, to see if you pass."

"Let's play."

* * *

Malfoy on a broom was a sight to behold, one Harry was sorry that he'd had to wait so long to see.

On the other hand, Harry could also see why Malfoy hadn't wanted to play at Hogwarts. Just from the way he sat his broom, leaning back a little to scan the dark sky for the Snitch, he wouldn't have had Harry's patience with the lack of challenge.

They were on a pitch so green and flat it made Harry think longingly of ideals and sheep and Ireland, where he'd only been once when he was much younger. Floating globes of light, with only faint shapes of iron cages around them to suggest what supported the spell, hovered on either side of the pitch. The Keeper's hoops shone silver.

Malfoy had told Harry he played Seeker by preference, and then cast the spells that would strip the brooms' magic and led Harry to the pitch in silence. Before he rose on his broom to join Harry, he'd released both the Snitch and the Bludgers from confinement.

And now the race was on to see who could find the Snitch first. But honestly, Harry thought, as he leaned into a gust that made his Firebolt sway harder than normal, this test was more than that. Malfoy wanted to see how he could fly.

Malfoy had a Starblaze, the better broom, newer by a year than Harry's Firebolt. But Harry could show him things that he hadn't dreamed of.

And above him was a night sky streaked with moonlight and clouds just _waiting_ to be explored.

Harry tilted back his broom. He could see Malfoy immediately pull in one knee as he dropped into a defensive maneuver, since he probably assumed Harry had seen the Snitch and would try to foul him.

But Harry had seen a cloud. He wondered if he could catch it. He tilted back until he was pointing straight upwards at it, and then he crouched a little, and then he took off.

 _Faster._

Harry felt his blood leap to life in his veins. He crouched down further, as much as he could when he was aiming up, and he soared. He had never let the Firebolt reach its full speed before, since he would slam into the side of most pitches.

Now he rose, and the air chilled around him so fast that he panted in exhilaration. This was him. This was a true wonder. This was how rapidly his Firebolt could fly.

He had to struggle to breathe. The cloud remained impossibly far above him. But that was no reason not to struggle after it. Harry drew himself back against the broom some more and urged it on.

No protective spells preventing the wood from splintering in the cold. No charms that would spring automatically to life to warm him as his body steamed white clouds. Nothing between him and death but a slender piece of wood and his own skill.

Harry banked abruptly, knowing he could go no further, listening to his body instead of his fear. He dropped his gaze and made out the Malfoy pitch as a point of light far below, glimmering in the dusk; the moon was nearer. Harry couldn't see Malfoy himself at all.

Time to fall.

Harry whipped his broom down, half-curving it like a peregrine's wing, and fell. And fell. The air around him changed from cold to warm. He didn't flinch. The light came nearer so fast that it was like watching an eye open. But Harry had given himself over to his instincts now, and he swerved in and out among the Keeper's hoops when he reached them exactly as if it hadn't made his shoulders strain, pulling the broom out of the dive like that.

There was a gleam of gold off to the side. Exactly where it should be.

Harry turned. But there was someone rising in front of him, so graceful and on point that he had to pause in speechless admiration, and Malfoy kept going and took the Snitch in full flight, anticipating where it would turn before it did.

He turned and stared at Harry. Harry stared back.

"In some ways," Malfoy said lazily, "that wasn't much of a game. With you gone for so long." He tossed the Snitch in his hand. Even its furious buzzing couldn't carry it out of the age of his fingers. Harry waited and said nothing. "How did you see it from that height? Were you using spells?"

"I couldn't see it. I came down and listened to what my instincts were telling me. They positioned me right."

"And _that's_ the right answer," Malfoy said, with a breath like a speech, and leaned forwards. Harry anticipated everything from grabbing his broom shaft to dragging him off it, and went with the drag, leaning forwards to kiss Malfoy as fiercely as the brooms bucked beneath them.

"You're _mine_ ," Malfoy said, when he pulled out of the kiss. "You won't play with anyone else. You're going to be here in a fortnight, on the dark of the moon, and play next to me. If we can't beat a seven-person team with only two, it'll be the first time I was wrong."

Harry nodded, and glanced around, wondering if anyone else was here right now. "And you don't want me to fuck someone for your pleasure?"

Malfoy's grip shifted from his shoulder to his throat. Harry whipped back, light-headed for more than one reason.

"Only me," Malfoy whispered to him. "And now. Showers."

* * *

Harry didn't expect to be nervous as he headed into the showers. He _had_ had sex with blokes before, what he'd told Malfoy was perfectly true, and there was no reason to think this would be any different. Maybe Malfoy would be experienced enough not to hurt him the way some of his partners had, Harry thought finally, but that would be the only noteworthy thing.

Quickly, he discovered some of the differences.

Malfoy had created showers in a huge stone building that might have been a stable for Abraxans once. He had plenty of benches where people could sit, and slick stones on the floor that Harry walked across carefully, and surprisingly modern showerheads that had knobs next to them for sending out various streams of water. Harry paused to study them, and Malfoy stepped up behind him and kissed him on the back of the neck.

 _Slow enough to melt my mind,_ Harry thought, and arched back into it before he thought about what he was doing. Malfoy looped an arm around his waist and kissed him again, and then ran his hand down Harry's hip. Harry was already naked. Malfoy had insisted he strip before they entered the showers.

"You look," Malfoy said, and didn't finish the sentence. He ran his fingers around Harry's nape and down his arms, using only one hand.

Harry shivered and tried to turn around to see Malfoy in turn, because he thought Malfoy would probably want a compliment, but Malfoy shook his head and held him against the wall with a grip only around his wrist. Harry stilled anyway, because he thought he knew what would happen if he challenged that grip.

"You're wonderful," said Malfoy, and he reached out and turned the knob on the wall nearest them.

Harry braced for a stream of cold water at first, the way it always happened at Hogwarts, but the first thing that hit him was a mist of warmth. Harry sighed and let himself sag forwards so his forehead was resting against the wall. Malfoy chuckled.

"Yes, I thought you might like that," he said, and his fingers slid and twisted and dipped into Harry's navel.

Slowly, as though he had until the next moon phase to do all this, Malfoy rubbed shampoo into Harry's hair. Harry arched his neck back and gasped when one hand ran down his spine, and there was some warm liquid smeared across the palm and fingers that wasn't shampoo.

"Body wash. Relaxant. My own creation."

Harry remembered, hazily, hearing that Malfoy was really talented at Potions, but his thoughts slid away again as the warmth made it hard for his legs to support him. Malfoy finally turned him around long enough to kiss him, and then made Harry sink down on a bench that was within the spray of water.

"Lie back," he whispered.

Harry did, but not before he cast a Cushioning Charm. The bench had a dip near the far end that would support his neck, but he didn't fancy his chances of escaping pain with what he suspected Malfoy was going to do to him.

He watched Malfoy pace towards him through the glistening stream of water. His eyes were like hematite, and Harry flushed, because he didn't often think in such poetic comparisons. But it was the truth.

Malfoy bent over and kissed him, and Harry kissed back, his nervousness fading. He'd done this before, he was warm and relaxed, and he lifted his legs in his hands and bent them backwards to his chest without needing to be told.

Malfoy stared at him, face bowed a little so his hair was hanging in his eyes and Harry couldn't see his expression. Harry was just starting to worry that he'd done something wrong when Malfoy lifted his head.

The look in his eyes warmed Harry more than the water _and_ the potion combined.

"Whoever had the training of you taught you well."

"I know what to do. That doesn't mean it's ever felt really good."

Malfoy shook his head in what seemed to be genuine caring, not pity, and said, "Then they didn't train _themselves_ well," and slid towards him. He had another potion on his fingers, one heavy and slick enough that it didn't rub off under the water. He reached out and circled a finger around Harry's hole. Harry thought it always felt weird at first.

This didn't. It was light and tickling, and went on long enough that Harry lifted his legs again, obeying some urge that he'd never felt before. Malfoy smiled at him, and opened him slowly with two fingers.

When Harry felt a spark of merciless pleasure, he thought it must be Malfoy's potion. But then Malfoy probed and twisted, and Harry strangled on his groans. His head tilted further back, into the space on the marble bench, and Malfoy stroked his chest.

"It's easy to give a man pleasure, like this," he murmured. "Although I like to think I'm exceptional at it. Your lovers must have been poor."

"Or I was," Harry managed to say, as he concentrated on his breathing and forced it back under control. "I couldn't believe that that was-all there was to it. I kept trying it again and again, because I thought there must be-something more."

"You should have come to me from the beginning. I would have taken care of you."

Harry wanted to retort that he and Malfoy had basically ignored each other at Hogwarts, but Malfoy was easing in with more than his fingers now. He pressed one hand on Harry's chest, massaging more potion in and making him breathe instead of tense up like Harry always wanted to do instinctively.

"Ah, yes," Malfoy sighed, as he entered him.

He kept hitting that spot inside Harry with small, subtle strokes, and Harry let go of his grinding teeth and cried out again and again. Malfoy smiled down at him, and whispered, "Let me give you as much pleasure as watching you fly gave me."

And he kept on moving slow and soft and merciful, and Harry never got cold, not with the endless enchanted warm water pouring across them. He felt the pleasure increasing, though, even though Malfoy wasn't "riding him hard" the way Harry had sometimes heard his roommates groaning about.

Then Malfoy bent himself down, sliding a little out of Harry. Before Harry could even protest, he lowered his head and breathed across the head of Harry's cock.

Harry arched and sprayed himself and Malfoy. God, that was _good,_ it was so _good,_ and it made him feel like he wanted to come again immediately. He squeezed down around Malfoy, half-hoping that he could get hard from the fucking and do it that way.

But Malfoy rolled his eyes back and sprayed himself, and Harry had to let loose a hiss of lesser satisfaction at having someone come inside him. Malfoy managed to make even that feel good, instead of just wet.

It wasn't so much prior experience as knowledge of the kind of Quidditch pitch Malfoy ran that made Harry expect him to pull out immediately once he was done. But instead, he lingered, and massaged more shampoo into Harry's hair, and kissed the edge of his eyes.

"Beautiful," he said.

Harry was too blissful to open an eye and glare at him the way he deserved, but he did _think_ about it.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the reviews!

"Potter. You're late."

"I'm sorry."

Harry might have tried to excuse himself more than that, but he didn't see the point. He _was_ late, and he might have cost Malfoy a lot in time or the favors it had probably taken him to set up this game. He just contented himself with nodding, heaving his broom, and adding, "Can we still play?"

"We can." Malfoy watched him with his head on one side, so like an owl they'd once had that Harry had to smile in spite of everything. "If you're not wounded."

"No." Harry supposed it was natural for him to think that Harry was wounded, with the delay he'd had. He swung his broom down from his shoulder with an easy motion to prove it, and added, as Malfoy started to lead him further into the darkness, "What team did you have the players come from?"

"You think I have the connections to get a professional Quidditch team to come out here?"

"Yes."

Malfoy's smile leaped out of the darkness like the _Lumos_ Charm the other night, but even brighter and more unexpected. "Well, I do. But there's a mixture of teams. I suspect none of them wanted to risk all their players for fear of being humiliated. The Chasers are from the Wasps, the Falconers sent two Beaters, the Keeper's from the Arrows, and the Seeker..."

"Yes?"

"The Cannons."

Harry felt the taste of victory in his mouth, as thick and raw as blood. "And you think people will say it's a fair win if we do it when _Leopold's_ the opponent?"

"Not that many people will ever know about this game anyway. The people who matter will, but it's not going to be a common topic of gossip." Malfoy glanced back at him, smile lighting the way again. "Besides, they think they're going to win because they're seven professionals. We're two amateurs."

"Not you."

"Amateur _level._ And I don't even have the experience of playing on a school team that you do. They're going to be humiliated, even with all their fine efforts not to be."

Harry nodded. "I see what you mean. Besides, the Cannons have a certain reputation among their fans." He was thinking of Ron, who had insisted over and over again that Jackson Leopold would have won if it hadn't been for that windy day, or that cheating enemy Seeker, or the unfortunate spasm of his broom underneath him.

"That's true." Malfoy hesitated for a moment, and Harry looked up, wondering if there was some other obstacle on their way to the field. "I wouldn't have invited you to this if I didn't think that you were a strong enough partner for me to win."

"I know."

Malfoy nodded once. "I thought you might think..."

"You wouldn't want to be humiliated in front of professionals any more than I would. No, Malfoy, I do understand this. Your motives, and the limitations, and the way we work together. I wouldn't ask for anything more. Certainly not a pity fuck."

Malfoy smiled as though the world was beginning, and led Harry onto the pitch.

* * *

They were one being in two bodies.

Harry felt it the moment they walked onto the Quidditch pitch. Of course he and Malfoy were closer together, and the professional Quidditch players were gathered a short distance away. So it was natural to feel as if he could sense echoes of Malfoy's presence playing all around him, hear every rush of blood in his veins, feel his breath, even when they were too distant from each other for that to be possible.

Even when they shook hands with the players-and got a glare from Jackson Leopold for their trouble-Harry didn't feel that close to them. But then, they were his opponents. It was only natural to be wary.

Then he and Malfoy stepped back, and gripped their brooms, and kicked into the air. They would have to catch the Snitch, fend off Bludgers themselves, and get the Quaffle through one hoop. They wouldn't be able to spare anyone to act as Keeper.

And then it became undeniable.

Harry knew not just where Malfoy was, but what he was feeling. And that was insane, when all he could really see of him during their wild maneuvering was the edge of his hand on a broom, or the bristles of the tail as he spun out of the way of a hit. Harry didn't know Malfoy that well. No one could, not after a fortnight's acquaintance.

Except he did.

Harry spun to the left, and a Bludger sprinted past his head with a whine. It was going too fast to change direction, and that whine had told Malfoy where it was. Harry knew that without turning his head. He tore away after the Quaffle, and spun it through their hoop by checking it with his hip.

He knew Malfoy was flying near the ground, and knew just by turning his head that he hadn't spotted the Snitch yet. Harry used his broom to hit the Quaffle this time, and avoided the Bludger by diving. Then he took to the high road, the cloud road, to hunt the Snitch.

It was nothing like the dizzying night when he had flown after the cloud. Instead, he rose in a hawk's spiral, and ignored the Beaters that chased him. They had faster brooms, or at least one did, but it didn't matter. Malfoy was about to hit the Bludgers after them, and give them something to think about.

On cue, he heard the Bludgers arc around and the Beaters' startled cursing. They probably hadn't even realized that one of the deadly balls had got out of their control. Harry smiled and kept turning his head.

There was a flicker of gold off to the side, but a second later, Harry realized it was only the fairy lights around the pitch flashing from the custom engraving on someone's broom. Harry sighed. They were five minutes into the game. It would have been good to end it before then.

But the professionals were at least looking more serious and less resentful than they had before the game. They had taught them respect, Harry thought, as he completed another ring of the spiral and looked around for the Snitch again. Malfoy might say that most people would never know about this game anyway, and be right, but Harry knew word would spread through the sort of underground networks that had let Malfoy arrange this game in the first place.

Harry looked down at another flash of movement. Malfoy was directly beneath him. He glanced up at Harry, and his eyes widened.

Harry didn't bother questioning the intuition that flared to life inside him. He dropped.

Another Bludger was chasing him, and it would have smashed his head if he'd stayed in the same position. Without the spells that were there to soften impacts in a normal game, he would have died. Harry let the thoughts flow through his fingers and his head and out into the air again, not affecting his performance.

Something else was doing that.

The tug of awareness that bound him to Malfoy made him dance to the side. He reached out his hand. He knew what was coming, and he knew that Malfoy was rising, and he knew that there was a slash of gold diving towards them, and he knew and accepted all that as his fingers linked with Malfoy's.

And at the same moment, the Snitch touched their palms. And their linked fingers closed around it.

Harry panted. He lifted his head and saw Malfoy staring back at him, his face ablaze with so many emotions Harry wasn't sure he knew all their names. He inclined his head after a moment, and Malfoy nodded solemnly back.

"That's impossible."

"They must have cheated somehow."

"How? We saw them take all the spells off their brooms, and Malfoy's pitch doesn't permit other spells that would let them know..."

Harry let the voices trail away as unimportant when he saw the way Malfoy was looking at him. _They_ knew they hadn't cheated, although if the professional Quidditch players had to decide they'd done it to make their loss acceptable to them, that was fine.

 _They_ knew the truth. Where "they" consisted of him and Malfoy.

Harry had never felt anything like it. Not with Ron, who had been his best friend most of his life. Not with his Gryffindor teammates, although they had been good enough to win the Quidditch Cup several times.

He and Malfoy landed, and Leopold landed, too, and stalked off the pitch on the other side. The rest of the players didn't pay attention to him. They hovered over Harry and Malfoy and shot so many questions at them, mostly about how long they'd been playing together, that Harry was at a loss to answer them all.

Luckily, Malfoy fielded most quickly and easily.

"No, just since the last full moon...yes, I personally tested him myself...Seeker is the position he played at Hogwarts...no, I never went in for Beater...if you say so...James Potter's son...perhaps."

It was as if they were still in tune even when not flying together, both on and off the pitch. Maybe they were, Harry acknowledged slowly to himself. It wasn't like he'd ever had really good sex before Malfoy, either.

 _Doesn't that give me something to think about._

Harry met and held Malfoy's eyes, at the same moment as one of the Beaters asked, "Would you consider playing on a team apart from him, if both of you were offered professional contracts?"

Harry frankly gaped. That was _not_ something he had ever thought would come out of this game. Malfoy just curled the side of his mouth with lordly disdain.

"Of course not," Malfoy said. "He's my partner."

Harry tilted his head to the side, vaguely aware that he now resembled an owl, like Malfoy when he'd met him on his way into the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy only smiled back, rich and insinuating.

"Well, let's dicker, then."

Harry turned. There was an eighth player on the Quidditch pitch, one he hadn't seen before, decked out in the uniform of the Montrose Magpies. He nodded to Malfoy and focused on Harry.

"Eighteen hundred Galleons a month," he said calmly, "to play as our reserve Seeker."

"I won't accept a contract apart from Malfoy," Harry said, although his heart was spinning and his head was pounding. It was more money than he had ever been offered in his _life,_ more than Dad and Sirius made as Aurors. "I thought he just told you that."

"No," said the Magpies player in a slight drawl, "I know that. We need two reserve Seekers. Frankly, our games are dangerous with the strategies we practice, and our Seeker is almost ready to retire anyway. Twenty-six, he's getting slow. We need to have our choice of replacements in the future, but if I know Halibut, he'll stick it out to the last month of his contract to show he can. That's fine, that'll give you plenty of time to dazzle on the field. What do you say?"

There was a wave of grumbling among the other players. Harry couldn't even look at them. His head was still pounding as though someone had cast a Skull-Splitter Jinx on him, and he looked at Malfoy instead.

He knew, despite the lack of expression on his face, that Malfoy was burning with a bonfire of delight beside him.

"I think," Malfoy said, "that we might want to renegotiate the price."

Harry nearly opened his mouth to complain-this was already the highest price he'd ever _head_ of for beginning Quidditch players-but then he saw the resigned way the Magpies' representative nodded, and knew that the man had expected the renegotiation. And from some of the muttering behind him, the other players were angry that their own teams weren't going to authorize them to go higher, or maybe offer contracts at all.

It was a new life opening before him, suddenly, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch on a dark moon night.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me why you were late tonight?"

Harry swallowed and looked up at Malfoy. Dawn was in the distance, and the Quidditch players had departed two hours ago. But he and Malfoy had lingered outside on the pitch by mutual consent, neither wanting to give up reliving the game.

Or what had happened afterwards.

"My parents and their friends who live with us caught me sneaking out of the house."

Malfoy's face flickered through a few rapid expressions. Then he said, "But you're of age."

There was a question in the back of his voice. Harry glared at him. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts, Malfoy. Of course I'm bloody well of age."

"Then what is their objection?"

Harry sighed and messed his fingers through his hair. He knew Malfoy was twitching with the desire to smooth it again, and that was something that even Sirius couldn't always resist. Malfoy, who had known him so much less time, understood him well enough not to reach out and try.

That was the kind of knowledge that made Harry speak the truth.

"They're trying to see themselves in me, I reckon. My dad and Siruis were famous pranksters at school. They assume that I would use the Invisibility Cloak to play pranks at night, instead of sneak off to something like this. And they think I'm going to be an Auror."

"What a _waste_ of talent. Someone should arrest you if you try."

Harry's smile was brief. "Yeah, but they don't see it that way. They're proud I play Quidditch, because my dad was on Gryffindor's team too, but they don't...they don't see it as something I can challenge myself at. They think I'll spend a few more months 'recovering from Hogwarts,' as Sirius puts it, and then join them in the Ministry. They keep asking me what I would do if I became a professional Quidditch player and then got old."

"Of course you'll get old. But you'll have made enough money by then to relax for the rest of your life if you want. Or pick something expensive and do that."

"They don't think I will."

"You don't strike me as someone who has a lot of problems saving your money."

"No. They...my mum thinks I'm a genius, like her. Just that I wasn't challenged enough at Hogwarts and I'm waiting for the right chance to exercise my genius. She would be happy if I wanted to become a Healer or an Unspeakable or something. Anything that's hard and combines several disciplines."

"Does she play Quidditch?"

"No."

"Then her opinion is irrelevant."

Harry had to smile again, but he said, "She's my _mum_ , Malfoy. Of course it isn't irrelevant. And my father's other friend, Remus, is the worst in some ways. He knows that I'm not happy, but he just thinks it's amazing that I have such a good life, and Sirius and my dad and mum are so welcoming to him. He thinks that's enough. It's enough for him. It should be for me, too."

"Potter," said Malfoy, and his voice was low and charged with a kind of intensity that made Harry's spine prickle more than it would have if Malfoy had suddenly switched to his first name. "Do you think my parents approve of me setting up a Quidditch pitch like this and trying to become a professional player? The way we just _did_?"

"That was pretty fucking amazing, wasn't it?"

"We're amazing together. Now answer my question."

Harry slowly shook his head. "I never met them, only heard stories about them from my dad. I thought...well, maybe they were just letting you do whatever you wanted because you had the money and the time. Or maybe they could see that you burn to play Quidditch and they let you do it because of that."

"Ha. No." Malfoy's lips curved the slightest bit. "My mother lets me do what I want, in the serene expectation that I'll get bored of this someday and do what they want instead. My father thinks Quidditch is _entirely_ beneath me. My grandfather is actually the one who had the pitch constructed. I had to spend a lot of time improving it to raise it to meet my standards. My father refused to help."

"But he didn't interfere, either?" If James had disapproved of Quidditch, Harry would have _known_.

"Of course not. That's beneath the dignity of a Malfoy."

Harry reached out to Malfoy as he stared into the distance. "Well, you've done a brilliant job on the Quidditch pitch," he said. "The only thing I regret is that we didn't play together in Hogwarts and learn we could be the team we are before now."

Malfoy cocked his head. "I wouldn't have known how to appreciate you then. I was only a child."

"And now we're not."

" _Decidedly_ not," Malfoy said, and slid his hand slowly up Harry's hip. "Shall we celebrate before we go and tell your parents?"

"We?" Harry asked, gasping a little as he felt how cool Malfoy's hand was.

"Of course. I never intended to let you go alone."

* * *

"Harry? What is the meaning of this?"

Harry took a moment to lean back against Malfoy, who looped an arm around his waist in support. That made Remus blink, his mother stare, and his father open his mouth as if to shout. But Sirius, who was watching intently, reached out and patted Dad's arm hard. Dad shut up long enough for Harry to speak.

"I've been given an offer to play professional Quidditch. Reserve Seeker for the Montrose Magpies."

"But how..." Mum.

"You never showed any interest..." Sirius.

"Why with _Malfoy_ , of all people?" Dad.

Remus just bowed his head as if he understood and was weary already.

"I showed interest. You just never paid attention," Harry said, and ignored the devastated looks that appeared on his parents' faces. He looked at Mum and Dad. "This is a great chance. Someone who's only played on a Hogwarts team is almost _never_ offered a chance like this."

"But what's it going to do to your career?" That was Sirius, who seemed to have forgotten that he'd held Dad back a second ago. He was all bent on charging ahead, and his face had a snarl wrinkled across his lips. "Your _real_ one. Your Auror one."

"That Auror career was something _you_ planned for me," Harry said. "I never planned on it. I tried to make it clear that I wasn't you lot, but you never wanted to hear that. So I went along with it and waited for the chance to show you I wanted something different."

"Is Quidditch going to be enough of a challenge for you?" That was Lily, of course, her hair swaying as she leaned intently forwards.

"You ought to see him on the field," said Malfoy, and everyone started as if they'd never thought he would speak despite standing _right there._ "With skilled enough opponents, of course it is. He simply never had them when he was at Hogwarts."

"We never asked you that, _Malfoy_."

"But I can answer as well as Harry can," said Malfoy, and smirked when Sirius started to splutter. "So why shouldn't I?"

Harry, meanwhile, looked at his mother and said, "He's right. It'll be enough of a challenge for me now that I'm playing professionally." He leaned back against Malfoy's warmth and added, "And now that I have a partner who can keep up with me."

If the implications of the word "partner" occurred to anyone, obviously they went straight over their heads. Mum still looked concerned. Dad said, "You know that you can't play professional Quidditch forever?"

"You can't be an Auror forever, either," Harry snapped back. "You're in your late thirties and they've already assigned you to deskwork, Dad. You complain about it, but I know you almost died in any number of cases. I want to do the dangerous risky career of _my_ heart. Not yours."

"There are lots of Aurors who are in less danger every day," Sirius began.

"But not many of them. And I don't want what you want. _I'm not you_."

The words seemed to make the house shake. Harry's parents exchanged guilty glances. Harry hoped it was because they hadn't listened to him, and they realized it now.

But Sirius, of course, was still charging straight ahead. "How can you think you're going to be safe with a _Malfoy_ playing next to you? They'll stab you as soon as you cross them! You'll have a fight, someone will say something unforgivable-"

"You're closer to saying something unforgivable right now than he is, Sirius. Shut up."

Sirius might not have, but Remus stood up and moved around in front of him. Harry thought he wasn't supposed to hear the words. Once again, they seemed to have forgotten that he and Malfoy were standing _right there_.

"Let him do what he wants, Padfoot. He can't do it forever, but there are very few things one can do forever. At least he'll be happy. And this way, we'll be on hand to help him if and when he decides that he can't stand it any longer."

Harry felt his muscles relax, one by one. That was all he wanted, the same chance they would give so many other people. He didn't know why it was so hard for his loving, open-minded parents and godfather to do that for _him_ , but it seemed to have been.

"I almost think they'll agree," Malfoy whispered against his ear.

Harry nodded, and was ready when Sirius turned around and grimaced at him. "I think you're making a mistake," he said, in a voice that reminded Harry of the way he sometimes growled when he was in dog form and lying in front of the fire. "But it's your mistake to make. Your life." He looked around the room as if for help or inspiration, then turned and thrust his hand roughly at Malfoy. "You. Look after him."

"I don't want to lose him. I will." Malfoy shook Sirius's hand and turned to look at the rest of Harry's family. He'd moved so his chin was top of Harry's head and his arm was around Harry's waist. Harry held his incredulous chuckle in. He was provoking them, but then again, probably better to make Mum and Dad face up to everything all at once.

James flushed and said, turned away so that he had his arms folded, "Fine. You take care of my son. And it had better not be in the way that your father _took care of_ enemies of You-Know-Who."

Malfoy's eyes could really flash when he wanted them to, but luckily, Dad wasn't looking. Malfoy nodded and turned to face Lily.

Lily sighed gustily and stretched her hand out to rest on Harry's cheek. "I'm sorry that none of us understood you," she whispered.

"As long as you can live with me doing what I want now," Harry said, not looking away from her face, "I forgive you."

His mum hugged him, of course, because she was his mum. At least Harry didn't hear Malfoy snicker. In fact, he let Harry go and stood calmly by while Lily hugged him, then reclaimed Harry into his embrace the minute she let him go. Lily seemed to relax as she hadn't done so far since Harry and Malfoy walked into the kitchen.

"If you can care for him..."

"I can, Mrs. Potter."

Lily nodded and turned back to Harry. Her eyes were wet. "Then go, with my blessing." This time, she kissed him on the cheek. Harry kissed her awkwardly back and then waved his wand to Summon his clothing and other possessions down the stairs.

"You're going _now_?" Sirius sounded stunned.

"There's not much point in delaying, really," said Harry. "I mean, the Magpies' contract starts tomorrow. And we can Floo in from Malfoy Manor if I spend the night there." He shifted a little closer, backwards, in Malfoy's arms, to let him know Harry stood with him.

Sirius turned and stomped out of the room. Dad wavered, then came over and hugged Harry-Malfoy let him go again-before he went and joined Sirius. Remus didn't hug him, but put his hands on Harry's shoulders and stared steadily into his eyes.

"You're sure you want this?" he whispered.

 _Why wouldn't I?_ But Remus had been on his side more than anyone else despite being the one to find Harry sneaking out last night, so Harry made sure to widen his eyes and try to look his most innocent and pleading as he nodded.

"Good, then. Good-bye, cub." Remus hugged him hard once, and stepped away, too. They all stood watching as Harry and Malfoy walked outside and to the Apparition point, and then they went and watched through the windows.

Malfoy said nothing until they were safely beyond what anyone might overhear through the windows or doors. Then he asked, not looking at Harry, "Are you ready to face _my_ parents, now? They're going to make this look as easy as baking biscuits."

Harry stopped walking and tugged on Malfoy's sleeve until he turned around. Harry held his eyes, then, and gave a single exaggerated nod of his head. Whether or not Malfoy believed him, it made him smile.

Together, they turned and Apparated out.

 **The End.**


End file.
